The Bottens Handelsbank, one of Sweden’s principal regional banks, was also the Irish Union’s correspondent bank in Scandinavia. The Handelsbank had concluded an agreement to participate in the banking pool that had been formed by the Irish Union to finance the Ciscap Consortium.
To ensure the good relations and liaise with the Swedes during the project construction, David Castlemain had asked Arrowsmith to brief Stig Erikkson in Stockholm on their latest plans.
Erikkson was a laid back Swede, he thought he had seen it all, his seemly incredulous bulging blue eyes gaped at Arrowsmith as he described the construction plans for the first phase. Arrowsmith felt that the going was hard as he waited for Erikkson’s reaction.
“You know Tony, it’s simply that I look at it like a military problem.”
Arrowsmith could hardly retain his surprise at Erikkson’s sudden diversion to the army, but he held himself back and listened.
Erikkson leaned back in his chair, it was evident that he was used to people listening to him. His jacked was unbuttoned and his gut thrust out from a shirt that he had outgrown, his tie had been pushed to one side and the shirt buttons strained to hold back the mass of flesh.
“Yes, you have to have discipline if you want to win the business war. An army cannot tolerate those who do not respect the rules. The Handelsbank is like that with its personnel, we have to pull together. That’s why we’ve been successful in our aggressive property market strategy.”
Arrowsmith felt relieved, for a moment he had thought that Erikkson was negative, but he then saw that he had been merely weighing up Arrowsmith, establishing the pecking order, as he saw it.
“You follow the rules Tony and the bank will go along with your plans, I’m not what can be called a technical man, I keep an eye on our investment,” he said almost as a warning, “but I know David well and our business relations have always been excellent.”
“That’s nice to hear Stig.” Erikkson had made the point that he was a confident of Castlemain. Arrowsmith smiled to himself, Erikkson did not convince him with his over exaggerated self importance.
“Have you a copy of the construction schedule?”
“Yes, everything is here,” said Arrowsmith dipping into his briefcase, “there’s also an up to date copy of the financial plan with the present financial structure showing the different investors, banks and the other participants.”
“What’s it looking like then?”
He went on to explain the details and how the financing had been structured. For the first phase the Irish Union would take 25%, the BCN pool 30%, and the Handelsbank 15%, and the remainder coming from various investors such as franchisers and hotel groups.
“Excellent, looks like things are moving well, on our side the timeshare partners, Golden Holiday Properties AB, have already started to prepare their advertising campaign, which will be launched early next year. I’ve seen some of the preliminary designs, very nice.”
“That’s good news Stig.”
“Yes, I like to keep things organised, my army background,” he said throwing Arrowsmith one of his superior looks.
Arrowsmith wondered maliciously to himself which army that was, if it was the Swedish army it was a long time since they had been able to put their theories into practice.”
“So Tony, what are the arrangements for our meeting in Pointe-à-Pitre?”
He referred to a ‘meeting’, in reality a week’s cruise on Castlemain’s yacht with Doudoune, Erikkson’s magnificent girl friend, a tall coffee skinned Guadaloupian, she was slim, chic and well spoken with a dazzling smile. Arrowsmith wondered what she saw in him, it was definitely not his gut and concluded it could only be money.
The meeting was no more than an excuse for another of Erikkson’s trips, part of the perks for services rendered.
The Caribbean was so exotic and exciting to Erikkson compared to the frigid atmosphere of the Swedish bank and monotony of Stockholm. The freedom he had enjoyed in recent years through his trips to Tallinn, in newly independent Estonia, where the bank was financing development projects, had given him a taste for the high life. The success of the business he had introduced to the bank from Estonian investors had pleased the management. They were generating good profits helping Erikkson’s newly found customers invest in the real estate projects that the bank was financing.
In Tallinn, the women Erikkson met had the type of easy morals, were a vague reminder to him of the Sweden of the seventies, when he had been much younger. However, the motivations were different, in Tallinn only dollars counted, ‘flower-power’ had no exchange value. Apart from that Estonia was just another Baltic country, close to Scandinavia, in both in its climate and its peoples. The Estonians reminded Erikkson of their cousins the Finns, for whom he had more than a certain disdain.
Erikkson lived for his moments of escape away from the heavy silence of his suburban home, the overpowering green of the summer and the never-ending snow and cold of the long winter months. He lived forty kilometres from Stockholm’s city centre, a life composed of endless commuting, forced Nordic restraint, self discipline and ‘honesty’.
His responsibilities, until the political changes in the Baltic States, had been limited to domestic property and Scandinavian investments, with the occasional outing to London or Paris.
Tallinn had given him his first taste of something different, but Guadeloupe had offered him an exoticism that he had never known and that he had only vaguely imagined existed, for the rich and fortunate. The nearest he had come to such a life was during holidays in Palma de Mallorca, amongst the masses of fellow Scandinavians and other northern Europeans, celebrating their two week summer orgy by consuming vast amounts of beer under the hot Mediterranean sun, observing from afar, from the terraces of portside cafes and beaches, the yachts of the rich anchored in the ports or bays of the island, imagining their golden existence.
Guy Courtauld had given him a taste of the ‘jet set’ life that he had only dreamed of. From the deck of the Marie Galante, Castlemain’s splendid yacht, Erikkson saw not only the marina and sailing club from another perspective, but also the world. He watched the tourists from the hotels and cruise ships passing on the quay, who filmed him with their video cams, as he nonchalantly sipped his glass of chilled Champagne, consciously posing on the polished mahogany deck. They were certainly envious and he had no doubt that they imagined him as one of the rich and easy.
Erikkson was easily seduced, especially after Courtauld had put their oft-used plan into action, introducing Stig to Doudoune, who worked in the Casino at Gosier. She was one of the many attractive, free and easy girls that hung around the yachting crowd.
Erikkson fell into the trap, and from that point there was no difficulty in manoeuvring him into obtaining the approval of the Handelsbank participation in the project financing.
Arrowsmith’s visit to Stockholm had been a mere formality, a facade, and the occasion to announce to Erikkson the arrangements for his next trip.
The participation in the financing by Handelsbank, gave the project a broader international image, beyond that of its original promoters. It had had the effect of being the catalyser to close the banking pool arrangement. For there was not only its financial contribution, but also the guaranteed market it would bring through its subsidiary, Golden Homes Properties AB, that would promote the sale of the timeshare units to Swedes hungry for the tropical sun and a stake in the future property boom.
“Well Stig if everything is clear with you we’ll leave on Friday, everything is arranged, I’ve booked our seats on the flight to Paris and then on to Pointe-à-Pitre.”
Arrowsmith was not looking forward to the long trip in the company of Erikkson, there was no other alternative, the Bottens Handelsbank participation was a coup that David Castlemain’s financial genius had conceived and was cemented by Guy Courtauld’s hold on Erikkson.
Chapter 27
Ivan Pavlov Garcia
Offshore Islands Page 26
